


Eight Ways Jack and Stephen Never Got Together (and one way they did!)

by Sid



Category: Aubrey-Maturin Series - Patrick O'Brian, Master and Commander - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 22:43:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sid/pseuds/Sid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the very special Birthday Edition of <em>The Dear Surprise</em> fanzine!  HUZZAH!</p>
<p>Rated PG.  Quotations are from Patrick O'Brian's <em>Master and Commander</em>, the first book in the Aubrey/Maturin series.</p>
<p>Warnings: crushing heartbreak...followed by crack!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eight Ways Jack and Stephen Never Got Together (and one way they did!)

**_Eight ways Jack and Stephen never got together (and one way they did)_ **

**They were seated apart**

_And on the little gilt chairs at least some of the audience were following the rise with an equal intensity: there were two in the third row, on the left-hand side; and they happened to be sitting next to one another._

On his way to the Governor's House for the concert, Stephen was distracted when he thought he saw a hoopoe in the deepening twilight. It took no more than five minutes of pursuit to realize that he had been mistaken; surely no more than ten minutes at the very most. But it meant that he was, in the event, seated in the fourth row, on the right-hand side.

**They were interrupted**

_Molly Harte curtseyed and smiled, caught his eye and smiled again; he clapped louder; but she saw that he was either not pleased or that he had not been attending, and her pleasure was sensibly diminished._

Jack and Stephen rose at the same moment and exchanged inimical looks. Jack began to speak: "My name is…"

A hand at his elbow, and a voice filled with false gaiety stopped him. "Tell me at once what you thought of my performance! Do not hold back, I beg of you; tell me all my flaws!"

Startled, Jack stumbled through a protestation of the merits of her instrument, the beauty of her playing, the charms of the music. When he turned back, his obnoxious neighbor had disappeared into the crowd.

**Captain Bradby didn't die**

_Whereas Captain Samuel Allen of His Majesty's Sloop Sophie is removed to the Pallas, Captain James Bradby deceased --_

As Jack moved through the hall of the Governor's House, still fuming at the white-faced creature in the rusty black coat, he paused long enough to exchange civil greetings with two captains of his acquaintance: James Bradby of the _Pallas_ , and the quiet, elderly Captain Allen of the neat little brig, _Sophie_.

 

**Harte delayed the orders to Jack even more (a)**

_"I wish you joy, of course," he said without a smile, "but upon my word you have an odd notion of taking over a command."_

_"I only heard last night – in fact this morning, between one and two."_

_"Indeed? You astonish me. I am amazed. The letter certainly went off in good time."_

Jack sat on the side of his bed and stared at the letter in his hands: By the Right Honourable Lord Keith… …hereby appointed Commander of His Majesty's Sloop _Sophie_ …

The words were clear enough in the morning's bright sunlight. Their meaning and import were slowly sinking in.

What joy they would have brought if only he had seen them sooner.

The graze from Maturin's bullet burned along the side of his ribcage.

If only the letter had arrived last night, and he could have seen it when he came home from the concert, or even before he left The Crown early this morning to seek Maturin out.

Jack squeezed his eyes shut against the image of Maturin's pale, still face.

The letter fluttered to the floor, unheeded.

 

**Harte delayed the orders to Jack even more (b)**

Mercedes put the letter on the table, next to a letter in Jack's hand addressed to General Aubrey. Teniente would read it when he returned from wherever he had gone this fine, bright morning.

The men the Navy sent to pack up Jack's belongings found it still lying there.

 

**Mr. Browne didn't die**

_"The patient I was to attend until the autumn has died. . . his friends do not answer my letters; the war has cut me off from my little patrimony in Spain; and when I told you, some time ago, that I had not eaten so well for a great while, I did not speak figuratively."_

"Come, sir, cannot I prevail upon you to go to sea?" Jack asked hopefully.

"It is an intriguing offer, to be sure, and the natural philosopher in me would rejoice at the opportunity to become intimately acquainted with the water fowl and the creatures of the sea. But, alas, the physician in me is committed to my patient, a Mr. Browne, whom I hope to cure of phthisis with the aid of this splendid Minorcan climate. He barely survived the sea voyage, but I still have great hopes. Your invitation does me great honour, however." Stephen bowed slightly in his chair.

"I understand," Jack answered. "'Tis a great pity, but I see there is no hope for it. Another glass of wine?"

**Dillon**

_He would call on Mr. Florey at the hospital and talk to him, in a general way, about the naval surgeon's calling. He brushed the ants from his wig and settled it on his head: then as he walked down toward the edge of the road – the magenta spikes of gladioli in the taller grass – the recollection of that unlucky name stopped him in his stride. How had he come to forget it so entirely in his sleep? How was it possible that the name James Dillon had not presented itself at once to his waking mind?_

_"Yet it is true there are hundreds of Dillons," he reflected, "And a great many of them are called James, of course."_

He stopped and sat on a rock, feeling chilled in the warm sun. If it were the same Dillon…now a Royal Navy officer…what danger might there be? Could – not would – but _could_ Dillon betray him without betraying himself? An officer, with sworn allegiance to the Crown. His word must eclipse Stephen's. And the aftermath of the Rising had left Ireland a-swim with informers. And those who threatened to inform.

Stephen had no idea how much a naval surgeon might be paid, but he doubted very much that it would be enough to buy the silence of a blackmailer.

The dear Lord knew that Stephen himself was a changed man. How might James Dillon have changed? What forces had acted upon him? What man had he been, at base, to begin with? Stephen had known him for years, but found himself now with the dread certainty that he knew nothing about the man at all.

He stared out over the sea. It was too great a risk, entirely. He would have to think up a story that would satisfy Aubrey, and then cut his losses.

 

**Mowett missed Stephen**

_He walked up through the town with his mind in a curious state; he had suffered so many disappointments recently that it did not seem possible he could bear another. What was more, he had allowed all his defences to disperse – unarm. It was while he was reassembling them and calling out his reserves that his feet carried him past Joselito's coffee-house and voices said, 'There he is – call out – run after him – you will catch him if you run.'_

Stephen lifted his hat and turned, walking away over ground that seemed to shift beneath his feet. The _Sophie_ had sailed away. The offer had not been meant, or Jack Aubrey had had second thoughts. Another blow, after so many.

He took a wide path around Joselito's, having a horror of seeing the place where he had so recently begun to reacquaint himself with happiness, and began the long climb to St. Damian's chapel. He was sick of men and their promises, of their company, of their voices. He would be a hermit until hunger and thirst drove him once again down into the town.

~~~~

"They hadn't seen the doctor at Joselito's, sir. I waited as long as I could, and left a message for him to meet us at the Crown steps at six o'clock."

"Very well, Mr. Mowett. You did all there was to be done." Jack tried to compose his face and not frown. Doctor Maturin would undoubtedly receive the message in due time, and all would be right as rain in the end.

~~~~

The steps were deserted. Jack sent Mowett to check at Joselito's. He came running back five minutes later, breathless. "They never saw him, sir. No one seemed to have any idea where to find him. I'm very sorry, sir."

"Never mind," Jack said quietly. He fished in his pocket for a coin. "Find the nearest boy and ask him to return these to Mr. Brown at the yard." Feeling very low, he held out the book of duettos.

~~~~~~~~

**And one way they did!**

Jack and Stephen rose at the same time, looking each other up and down with cold dislike.

But then Stephen began to like what he saw (tall, blond, handsome. nice pants.) and to feel slightly ashamed of his own ill-temper and unforgivable rudeness, although he wasn't prepared to admit it just yet.

Jack was less impressed by what he saw, but tall, blond, handsome men like to be admired, and he saw the admiration enter Stephen's gaze. Without realizing it, a new warmth entered his own eyes in response.

Stephen saw this new warmth, and thought that he just might be forgiven after all, if he were ever to admit that he'd said or done anything inappropriate. Not that he was ready to, just yet. This handsome officer had the look of a man who was friendly by nature. Probably he was going to say something apologetic or placating at any moment. Without knowing it, Stephen's lips formed the beginning of an inviting smile, and the smile crept into his eyes.

_They were quite nice eyes, actually, weren't they? Quite nice to look into. Smile into._ When Jack realized that he was smiling at the stranger, not being Stephen, he allowed himself to smile more broadly. "It was a very fine concert, sir, was it not?"

Stephen felt his toes curl. (deep, strong voice. rawr.) "Yes," he managed to croak.

"I'm afraid the music quite carried away my good sense and my manners. I hope you will forgive me?"

Stephen waved a hand in a gesture of negation. (all forgotten, big boy.) "Please, there can be no question of…"

"Wonderful!" Jack cried, clapping his hands together. "Now, sir, may I introduce myself to you?"

Stephen bowed low.

"What a splendid chap you are! My name is Jack Aubrey, lieutenant in His Majesty's Navy."

Jack held out a hand and Stephen took it. (broad, warm, dry. lovely.) "Maturin. Doctor Stephen Maturin." Jack squeezed his hand and Stephen felt his face flush.

Jack observed the flush, and also observed Stephen's thin chest rising and falling more quickly. He felt a stirring of interest within his smallclothes. "A great pleasure, Doctor. A very great pleasure." He placed an extra emphasis on the second 'pleasure' as he stroked his thumb across the Doctor's knuckles before releasing his hand.

"And for myself," Stephen agreed, inhaling. "Such a marvelous evening altogether." (that's your cue, sexy.)

"Too marvelous to end so soon, would you not agree?"

"It would be the pity of the world." Stephen smiled slowly.

"I am lodging at The Crown. Would you care to join me there, as my guest, in a late supper? I am fairly famished."

"I would be delighted. Entirely delighted." (I will eat you up with a spoon, I will.)

It was Jack's turn to flush, as he read the promise in Stephen's eyes. "Shall we?"

They talked about the concert as they walked to The Crown, and were pleased as could be to discover that they were both amateur musicians. Jack hoped aloud that one day they might play together, but Stephen changed the subject, knowing that his cello was beyond his reach until he had funds with which to pay his landlord.

When they reached the inn, Jack called for the chambermaid and ordered a cold chicken and two bottles of wine.

"Yes, Teniente," she said. "And you have a letter." She pulled it out of her apron pocket and handed it to Jack. "And a Captain Allen was here to see you."

Jack didn't even look at the envelope, afraid that it was a dun. He did not want his mood diminished. He took a candle and led Stephen up the stairs, and let them into his room. Leaving the door open for Mercedes and tossing the letter down onto the table, he said, with a little bow, "Please make yourself at home."

Stephen sat down at the table as Jack went about the room lighting more candles. He glanced down at the letter, and tilted his head. "It is Lieutenant Aubrey, is it not? Did I misapprehend?"

Jack came over and sat. "Still a lieutenant, for my sins."

"Forgive me," Stephen said, "I had no intention of prying, but the address on this letter happened to catch my eye."

Jack craned his neck to look at it. "Captain!" He scowled. "Some fool idiot…" He heard Mercedes' footsteps on the staircase and stood, picking up the letter. "Doctor," he said as Mercedes came in with a large tray, "do help yourself to the food, and if you would be so good, will you pour me a glass of wine? I have little doubt as to what this letter contains, but I suppose I had better read it and get it over with. You will excuse me?"

"Yes, certainly, Lieutenant," Stephen said, already reaching for the knife to carve the chicken. (food! omnomnom!) "Do not concern yourself with my presence in the least, I beg of you." And he proceeded to very studiously apply himself to the food and the wine, not paying the least attention to his handsome host, other than to admire Jack's broad shoulders and beefy legs and long yellow hair as he chewed and swallowed rapidly. (omnomnom! food!)

Suddenly Jack laughed aloud, and began pacing around the room, staring at the letter in his hands. He stopped for a moment to stare at Stephen, who got the impression that Jack had forgotten entirely that he was even in the room, then laughed again, his face a bright red. With a couple of swift strides he crossed the floor and rang the bell vigorously, then flung open the door and began calling, "Mercy! Mercy! Two more bottles of wine!"

"Yes, Teniente!"

"Not Teniente. Capitan! Capitano!"

Stephen wiped his fingers on his napkin and pushed his chair back. "Am I to give you joy of a promotion?"

"Ha ha ha!" Jack pulled Stephen up from the chair and hugged him, crushing the breath out of his slender, wiry body. "Ha ha ha!"

Stephen managed to work an arm free to pat Jack on the back. Then he let his hand slide down until it rested on Jack's ample buttocks. (woo!)

Jack stopped laughing, shifted his grip on Stephen, and kissed him exuberantly.

Stephen kissed him back, breaking off with a warning sound when he heard the chambermaid's approach.

Jack took the new bottles of wine from her outstretched hands.

"I am so happy for you, Captain Aubrey!"

"Thank you, Mercy," he said, pinching her cheek. "Now off to bed with you. No need to clear our feast away until after breakfast, my dear."

"Good night!" she called as she left them.

Jack turned the key in the lock and turned to Stephen. "The night is just beginning."

"So it is, my dear." (really nice pants.) Stephen took the bottles from Jack's arm and placed them on the table, then topped up his wine glass from the open bottle. Jack's hand pressed his shoulder. Stephen picked up the two glasses and handed Jack his, turning to face him. "Congratulations."

They touched glasses, and drank. Jack drained his in two great swallows.

His kiss tasted like Tempranillo.

The night truly was just beginning.

Everything was just beginning.


End file.
